If I'm too busy for you
I'm too busy for me
And that is unhealthy

Because perhaps in vain and vainity
We are the same?

Skilled at creating for someone else
At adapting for the US entirely

But could it be that within the entirety
That we lose the ability to see?

Like the blinders of love
Be they ever imposed
By this realization of who is me?

Perhaps we are the same indeed?
Perhaps one day you'd let me try
For you, as also you could for me?